


Must Behead Dolls [Fic & Art]

by beir, blue_pointer



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), MCU, The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cybersex, Disney World & Disneyland, Flying, Gothic, Goths, Hotel Sex, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Meet the Family, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Pick-Up Lines, Semi-Public Sex, Walk Into A Bar, Winteriron Bang, buckyxtony, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-07 07:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20306101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beir/pseuds/beir, https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer
Summary: A goth bar. Two goth boys. A romance.





	1. The Hopeful Romantic

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the one and only [beir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beir/pseuds/beir) for this great story idea and for letting me write it.
> 
> -Blue
> 
> For the Winteriron Reverse Bang 2019
> 
> Art is also posted on tumblr [here](https://beir.tumblr.com/post/187187211588/must-behead-dolls-by-blue-pointer-bluepointer)!

It got so lonely being evil in the city of angels. Bucky had always managed to fit in with the West Hollywood music scene well enough, but the endless import of hopeful shining faces and desperate starlets, the jaded locals and gym bro rejects, was a constant attack on his aesthetic. There were few places Bucky truly felt at home. Saturday nights at Bar Sin were an exception. 

It was usually worth going. The L.A. goth community wasn’t so small that Bucky knew everyone. There were always connoisseurs who traveled from one city to the next, exploring clubs. Too often the odd teenager would discover Neil Gaiman or dark wave and drop in to prove their mettle against actual creatures of darkness, which was good for a laugh or two. And if there were some people Bucky didn’t like, well. All the respectable goths had jobs and daywalking lives, so they couldn’t attend every week. In a way, it was like church...if church was good music, velvet and lace with a shot of absinthe, and half the congregation wished they were vampires. 

In some ways, it was all very boring, the people especially so. But there was nothing wrong with boring now and then, Bucky told himself as “Forgiveness” drifted through the club. Then Rogue sang “elegant and beautiful”, and right on cue (because a good goth always is), a new beauty stepped into the dim light of the dance floor. His dark hair and eyes were obscured beneath a crimson velvet top hat with high tech goggles perched on the brim. It had been ages since Bucky had seen a new cyberpunk show at Bar Sin. Like more than half of the men in the club, this one wore an artistically shaved goatee. His clothing was more intricate than a glance in a dark club could take in, but when Bucky looked down at his beer glass, his brain recalled skin-tight pants and a stiff jerkin that shone like armor. It was sharp. Bucky found himself feeling envious, but only in the way he felt of all good fashion that suited his aesthetic. 

“Gimme a scotch on the rocks,” an unfamiliar voice said at Bucky’s elbow. He thought it might be the cyberpunk, but Bucky was too busy looking disinterested to check. “My god you’re handsome. I bet you get told that a lot.” 

Bucky glanced nonchalantly in the speaker’s direction, and his heart beat faster. It was. It was the newcomer. Up close, Bucky could see his jerkin was made up of interlaced ribs of metal that gleamed red and gold in the darkness. “I love it,” Bucky said out loud, before he’d realized it. “Your outfit, I mean.” So much for looking aloof. 

Bucky saw forgiveness in the man’s flirtatious gaze. “What, this old thing?” he smirked. Bucky was probably the person in the club who’d spent the least amount of time on his look tonight. Preparing for goth night could easily take a true believer more than an hour just to dress. And they both knew it.

“Who’s your guy?” Bucky asked, vaguely considering throwing caution to the wind and ordering his own armored doublet. 

The bartender passed the cyberpunk his drink, and he raised it to Bucky, toasting him. “You, if you’re lucky.” 

Bucky really should have known better than to set it up like that. Sure, some children of the night came here to hook up. But, throw together a room full of hopeless romantics and you will get surprisingly less hook-ups than in other groups of singles and polyamorous shapes. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had been propositioned at Bar Sin (tourists tended to flock to him because he looked the most “normal” of those in attendance), but he felt disappointed. Somehow, he’d expected more from this one. 

“I meant.” Bucky licked his lips. “Your seamstress. Who does your plates?” 

“I do my own.” The man shrugged, feeling Bucky’s rejection of his offer. He turned toward the bar and sipped his drink. 

“Beautiful work,” Bucky said. 

“I know.” The man wasn’t humble; that was for sure.

“Come dance with me!” Natasha called from across the room as the first few bars of “Dear Prudence” began to play. She stepped out from her coterie of admirers like Botticelli’s Venus climbing down from her scallop shell. Bucky couldn’t say no to her. It wasn’t only about mortally offending the majority of the club, he just wasn’t any good at it. Nat still had his psyche in the palm of her hand, though the rest of him had spent years trying to pull away.

“Excuse me, won’t you?” Bucky said to his new acquaintance. “This won’t take long.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the man said, leaning his elbows on the back of the bar--or trying to, but his platforms weren’t quite high enough for him to reach. He was short. Good to know. 

Bucky’s and Natasha’s palms met in almost ritual dance they’d performed far too many times for Bucky’s own good. He was bad at saying no to her, which is why they had been a couple on and off more times than he’d dated other people. “Come back to me, Winter,” she begged softly in his ear as their bodies collided in time to the music. 

“I can’t,” Bucky told her. “I’m sorry.” Too soon, the song was over, and Bucky stumbled away from her flashing eyes, both fierce and hurt. 

“When I was little, I had an antique doll who looked a lot like her.” 

“What?” Bucky’s brains were still addled from the spell his ex had tried to cast on him. 

“I cut her head off.” While Bucky stared, the man sipped his drink. “Just an idea.” 

Bucky laughed hard. “I like you. You’re unexpected.” 

“Well I try to be,” the man drawled, actually batting his eyelashes at Bucky. They were pretty nice lashes, all told, and not the glue-on kind; Bucky could tell. “Tell me your name, gorgeous. I’m dying to know it.” 

“Well.” Bucky pressed his lips together. It was the moment of truth. “People who know me just. Call me Bucky.” It was a name known to go over poorly with strangers. 

“Antony.” When he extended his hand, Bucky was expecting a shake, so he reached out. Antony took his hand, gently wrapping Bucky’s fingers over his knuckle and bending to press his lips against Bucky’s fingers. 

“Very unexpected.” Bucky’s eyebrows had been here a minute ago...

“Hey, what do you say we get out of here? I’m getting mad ex-girlfriend vibes from kiss of the spiderwoman over there.” 

“Sorry, I don’t really--”

“I just want to take a walk down the strip and breathe in the night air,” Antony said, wistful. Put that way, it did sound kind of good. But if he was still hoping for a hook-up, he was going to be disappointed in Bucky. 

“Just a walk,” Bucky said, and put his tip on the bar for Darcy. 

*

Not surprisingly, the strip had too many late night creepers around for a romantic walk. So Antony offered to drive them to Santa Monica for the ocean breeze. Bucky had had enough of the club for one week, so he agreed. When he saw Antony’s car, a Mulholland Edition Chrysler Prowler, Bucky knew he’d made the right choice. He tried not to look too impressed as he slid into the passenger seat, but he must not have succeeded; Antony looked smug as he took the wheel. “Name your song,” he told Bucky. “The car’s computer will play whatever you want.” 

Car’s computer? This cyberpunk was not messing around. Bucky asked for The Cure, because he was feeling strangely romantic tonight. The car replied with a British accent, which was somehow perfect.


	2. The Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes Bucky for a walk on the beach. And a ride in the hotel.

“Why do I feel like I just got caught up in a _ Must Love Dogs_-type romcom?” Bucky asked, as they walked along the beach in the dark. Antony had taken off his platforms, and turned out to be endearingly short. Bucky had refused to take off his boots, though, leaving suspicious footprints behind them in the sand. For him, it was a test: could his oldest and most worn pair of lace-up button boots still hold up to the abrasive sand and moisture?

“Loving dogs is not a requirement to accompany me on a midnight stroll,” Antony smiled. He was cute, Bucky had to give him that. “Although if you like snakes or spiders, you do get brownie points.” 

“I travel a lot for work,” Bucky said. “I’m not sure that’d work out too well for a snake or a spider.” 

“See, a nosey person might ask what you do for a living,” Antony said. “But I’m happy just enjoying your company.” He took Bucky’s hand, then, boldly sliding his fingers between Bucky’s gloved ones. Bucky didn’t pull away. It was kind of a sweet gesture compared to the sexual innuendo Antony had made at the bar. 

“Full disclosure: I do own a cat.” Bucky said.

“Let me guess: it’s a black cat.” 

Bucky smiled. “He is.” 

“What’s his name?” 

“T’Challa.” Hopefully Antony wouldn’t ask why.

“So what does T’Challa do if you travel so much for work?” Tony asked. 

“I take him to my sister’s,” Bucky said. “My niece has always wanted a cat, and my sister’s allergic, so he’s sort of a timeshare pet.” 

Bucky’s head turned as the sound of drunken revelry came down to them from the boardwalk. “You ever worry about walking around dressed like that so far away from the club?” Bucky had no doubt such an intricate costume would get Antony targeted for harassment or worse if Bucky weren’t here to escort him. 

“I don’t.” Antony’s eyes twinkled. “Ask me why.” 

“Why aren’t you afraid of gangs of drunk teenagers?” Bucky asked. 

The way Antony’s lips quirked, Bucky was sure he was about to make a blue remark. “Are you afraid of heights?” he asked instead. 

“No. Are we still having the same conversation?” Bucky asked as Antony let go his hand to bend down and put his shoes back on. 

“You’d better hold on.” 

“To what?” But Bucky didn’t have time to say more, because he and Antony were suddenly rising off the ground at an alarming rate. “How are you doing this?” Bucky asked, arms wrapped firmly around Antony’s shoulders. 

“I get bored,” Antony said. He was wearing the goggles over his eyes now. 

“How does your hat stay on?” Bucky wanted to know. 

“Practice,” Antony grinned. 

Bucky was starting to get short of breath. Maybe it was the altitude. “So when you get accosted by bullies, you just use your rocket platforms to blast into outer space?” 

“Not space,” Antony said, letting his hands slide down to Bucky’s lower back. The warmth of his fingers was palpable through Bucky’s leather jacket. “That probably wouldn’t be safe.” 

“Yeah, this seems pretty safe.” But in spite of his sarcasm, Bucky was enjoying the view. All of the lights below and the big patch of darkness he knew was the ocean. It was like reverse star-gazing. 

“You want me to take us back down?” Antony asked. 

“I don’t care,” Bucky said, stretching out his arms. He closed his eyes, just feeling the air flying past. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” When Bucky arched his back, stretching, he felt Antony’s arousal pressing against his thigh. 

“Does it excite you to scare the hell out of your dates?” Bucky asked. 

“You’re not scared,” Antony said. “But you do feel amazing pressed against me.” 

“Take us down,” Bucky said, because he didn’t want to risk crashing with what came next. Back on the beach, Bucky shrugged out of his jacket, reaching for Antony, whose metal doublet folded back on itself like a Chinese fan to reveal Antony’s shaved chest and a most interesting tattoo. Bucky traced the steampunk sun with gloved fingertips, wishing he could feel Antony’s smooth skin with his own, but knowing what that would mean. 

“Are you gonna leave your gloves on?” Antony asked, as he slid his hand over Bucky’s hip, pulling their waists together, gently swaying. 

“You got a problem with that?” Bucky asked him. 

“No,” Antony said, teasing for the kiss Bucky was still withholding. “Kind of excited, actually.” 

“Then let me excite you some more.” Bucky slid both hands all over Antony’s bare skin, clawing and kneading. 

“If you’re trying to make me come in my pants,” Antony said. “You should know it’s working.” 

“Sounds like someone needs a cock ring next time,” Bucky said before teasing Antony’s tongue with his own. 

“Next time!” Antony whimpered. “Take off your shirt,” he begged Bucky. 

“Not yet,” Bucky said, mouthing Antony’s earlobe. Seeing his arm was sure to derail any encounter, and this one especially had an eye for technology. “I’m gonna put my mouth on you now,” Bucky warned him, and bent down to open Antony’s fly. 

“Oh, that would--” Antony gasped when he felt Bucky’s lips. He hadn’t been lying, his dick was rock-hard and leaking pre-cum like crazy. “Don’t take this personally,” he told Bucky, resting his hands lightly on the back of Bucky’s head. “But I’m gonna come.” 

Bucky didn’t take it personally. They lay together in the sand, after, and Bucky took off his right glove to trace Antony’s chest tattoo. “What’s this?” he asked, sliding his index finger over the unusual piercing Tony had at the center of the tattooed sun. 

“That’s my lodestone,” Antony said. “It anchors the spell that keeps me alive.” 

“You can’t stay alive on your own?” Bucky asked, more worried than he should have been about the fantasy backstory of someone he’d only just met. 

“Not really.” Antony lay back to look up at the stars. “It’s a long story.” 

“Okay. I won’t ask if you don’t.” 

“If I don’t what?” Antony glanced back at him. The stars reflected in his dark eyes were like sparks of potential. 

“Ask.” Bucky pushed himself up to hover over Antony, ghosting fingers over his jaw before sitting back and pulling his shirt up over his head. The nylon sleeve took his left glove off with it, and he leaned forward again to gauge Antony’s reaction. 

“It’s beautiful,” Antony said. “Why do you hide it?” 

“You promised not to ask,” Bucky said, tapping Antony’s nose lightly. 

“Okay.” But Bucky could see there were 1000 questions hovering on Antony’s lips. “Can I touch it?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky pulled his hair back. It was going to be a nightmare to wash all the sand out later. Then Antony’s hand was on him, his greedy palm sliding up Bucky’s metal arm. 

“Exquisite,” he said in wonder. “Did you make it?” 

“Not exactly.”

“Sorry.” Tony added his second hand, groping Bucky’s arm like a true fetishist. “I keep asking questions, but it’s hard for me. Not to, I mean.” 

“Should I leave the two of you alone?” Bucky asked, starting to regret his decision. Antony seemed more interested in his prosthetic than he was in Bucky now. 

“No.” Antony took his hands away quickly. “I understand why you kept it covered now.” He sat up, needing to get Bucky’s attention again. “Can you feel it when I touch you?” 

Bucky shook his head. “Not really.” 

“How about this?” Tony’s calloused fingers traced Bucky’s waistband. 

“Yeah.” Bucky bit back a smirk. That was sudden.

“What about this?” He thumbed one of Bucky’s nipples, making Bucky close his eyes. 

“Yeah.” And Antony’s lips were on him, licking and sucking, teasing Bucky’s skin until he was halfway there and still only naked from the waist up. Tony’s hands were strong and demanding, and Bucky gasped when the one cupping his balls pressed a finger against his back door. 

“Can I?” Antony asked. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this out in the open,” Bucky realized. 

“What if I fly you back to my hotel?” Antony asked, kissing a trail down Bucky’s neck. “Then will you let me fuck you?” 

“That sounds great.” Why was he agreeing to this so quickly? Bucky hadn’t gone all the way with another man for years. Antony swallowed him and deep-throated Bucky until he came hard before getting dressed again. “That’s sexual warfare,” Bucky told him, still panting in the sand. 

“Well, in the words of John Paul Jones, ‘I have not yet begun to fight.’” Tony smirked, helping Bucky get his clothes back on. “Ready to get some air?” he asked. 

“I like the way you hold me,” Bucky confessed. Antony’s arms around him in flight created a death-defying intimacy. 

“I like the way you say yes,” Antony said, taking them up into the air again. They started up on the hotel roof, and almost didn’t make it down to the balcony of Antony’s Pacific view suite.

“This is really your room?” Bucky asked, shucking his jeans as he slid back onto the four poster bed. 

Antony crawled in after him, like a panther in heat. “Yeah, but I do have them redecorate before I come to stay. It’s usually too bright and beachy in here for me.” 

“I haven’t been anywhere this nice in a long time,” Bucky explained, trying hard not to be intimidated by how rich that meant Antony must be. 

“Well get used to it, kid,” Antony said, sliding a hand over Bucky’s hip. “Stick with me, and I’ll treat you like a prince.” 

“I feel like this is moving really fast,” Bucky said, because it was. 

“Is that how you like it?” Antony asked, squirting lube on his fingers. 

“Sometimes.” Watching it made Bucky’s heart race. 

“You’re beautiful,” Antony said, rolling over on his back. “Ride me. I want to look at you.” But Bucky was hesitant to straddle his hips. The position made Bucky feel exposed, self-conscious. He wasn’t a teenage twink anymore.

“What if I make you wear a blindfold?” Bucky suggested. If Antony wasn’t staring at him so adoringly, maybe it would ease the emotional pressure he felt pouring off the guy.

“Ah, the better to feel you with, my dear,” Antony smirked. It looked like he was into the idea, so Bucky slipped off one of the silk pillow cases and turned it into a blindfold. 

“No fair peeking,” he warned Antony. 

“Who needs eyes when you have hands?” Antony asked, gripping Bucky’s ass cheeks and squeezing like he was kneading bread. 

“I’m not usually like this,” Bucky explained, carefully straddling Antony. 

“Gorgeous? I doubt that.” Antony pawed at Bucky’s abs. 

“No, I mean cheap. I haven’t had a one night stand in a really long time.” 

“Sweetheart.” Antony lifted his blindfold to look up at Bucky with one eye. “This isn’t a one night stand.” 

“You say that now--” 

Antony sat up and kissed him quiet. “I love everything about you,” he whispered, and it terrified Bucky to hear that four letter word. 

“You barely know me,” Bucky protested. 

“Should we stop?” Antony asked, peeking out from his blindfold again. 

“No.” Bucky felt uncertain but certain at the same time. No way was he not getting the hot dick that had been promised. 

“Should we make love instead?” Antony asked, rolling Bucky over with a rose clenched between his teeth. 

_ Where did that come from? _“Were we not doing that?” Bucky asked.

“Well, you were talking about one-night stands. I thought maybe you were thinking otherwise.”

“Enjoy the silence,” Bucky said, tossing the rose aside and kissing Antony, because there had been far too much talking for a sex scene. Antony’s body excited him in ways Bucky hadn’t been excited for a long time. He also switched easily and effortlessly, and Bucky found he couldn’t stop once he’d gotten Tony underneath him. 

“That’s three times,” Antony said, panting. “How are you doing this? Refer me to your pharmacist, okay?” 

“No drugs,” Bucky said. 

“Oo.” Antony rolled over, tracing Bucky’s shoulder with one hand. “You mean I really have found the stallion of my dreams?” 

Bucky snorted a laugh. “I feel like we haven’t talked enough for me to be able to guess from that if you just have a sense of humor or if you like pony play.” 

“Hey, I’ll try anything once,” Antony said, and Bucky thought it was probably a joke. “Is that what you’re into, Lord Byron?”

“Like I said,” Bucky reminded him. “I don’t normally do this.” 

“Do me?” Antony asked, wiggling his behind as the come began to leak out of it. 

“That’s hot,” Bucky growled, plunging back in. They didn’t stop until well past daylight.


	3. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting to know more about one another's bodies, Tony and Bucky want to know more about the rest of one another.

“I assume you have a job,” Antony asked over breakfast, which was being eaten at noon, since they’d only gotten to bed around 7. 

“You assume right,” Bucky said. “Is this like 20 questions?” 

Antony gave him a playful look. “Maybe.” He stroked his moustache. After a shower, with his wet hair slicked back, Antony looked like someone else. Or like he was _ trying _ to look like someone else. 

“Why do I feel like this isn’t your taste?” Bucky asked, rubbing the soft white hotel bathrobe between his fingers. 

“Don’t change the subject,” Antony told him. “Tell me more about this twenty questions game.” He reclined on the bed with a hood-eyed look. “Last night you said I couldn’t ask, so I have a few lined up.” 

Bucky grinned. Maybe learning a little bit about one another wouldn’t hurt. “Okay, you first.”

“What do you do for work?” Antony asked. He really was so adorable, leaning back with one plucked eyebrow raised. 

Bucky bit his lip. “Better you don’t know.” 

“That’s not an answer!” Antony pointed at him accusingly. 

“Let’s just say...I’m a private contractor and I make my own hours. So I have nowhere to be just now.”

“I see.” Antony’s eyes narrowed, probably trying to guess. Bucky’s guess was he wouldn’t be able to. 

After Antony had asked what he did for a living, it seemed polite to ask him the same. But Bucky actually didn’t care about that. He cared more about… “Are you single?” 

A sly smile spread over Antony’s face. “Are you window shopping or prepared to make a purchase today, Sir?” 

Bucky snorted a laugh. “I just wanna know if I need to watch my back, or who my competition is.” 

“I’m single.” Antony waved a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I used to love monogamy, but I’m no good at it. The second I take them home to meet my folks, they run for the hills.” 

That was interesting information. “Your folks are really that bad?” 

Antony slapped his hand on the mattress. “Hell no! My folks are amazing! People just...aren’t prepared is all.” 

So maybe it was just simple bias. “Oh, were you adopted?” 

“You’re a smart one.” Tony turned his head and looked at Bucky out of the corner of his eye. “But it’s my turn! You asked two extra questions, and I still only had one.” 

Bucky held up his hands in surrender. “Fire away, maestro.” 

Antony relaxed again. “What’s the oddest thing you’ve ever done?” 

“Well, I assume you mean anything NOT counterculture-related.” Because goths did some odd shit, as a general rule. 

“Either or,” Antony said, turning his palm up and down as he spoke. 

“Probably the oddest...off the top of my head, I had to crossdress to do a job, once. Had to learn to pole dance, too.” 

“Now THIS seems relevant to my interests. Please continue,” Antony said, sitting up in bed like a hound scenting prey. 

Bucky shook his head. “Nope. That’s all you get for now.” 

“Are there pictures?” 

Bucky smirked. “I always destroy incriminating evidence.” Tony pouted. “My turn,” Bucky reminded him. 

“Oh, very well.” 

“How long did it take you to design that flying suit you wore last night?” 

“Design? Well, it admittedly went through a few drafts. So I guess, to be fair, I’ve been perfecting it over a number of years.” 

Okay, maybe Bucky really should have asked what Antony did for a living. “You’re an engineer?” 

‘Serpent’ was the word that came into Bucky’s head when Antony offered a sly smile in response. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. That’s the answer I usually give the press. But in real life, it’s not necessarily in that order.”

“Playboy, huh?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. It was going to be hard not to get intimidated by this guy’s money, he could tell. 

“Ah-ah.” Antony held up a finger. “My turn.” Bucky shrugged. “I’m going to hazard a guess from your look of disbelief--I’m not insulted, by the way--that you live on the west coast.” 

“Is that a question?” Bucky asked, because he could tell Antony was trying to cheat and get some extra answers. 

Antony grinned. “No, but that was.” 

“Dammit!” 

“Aww, Romeo. Don’t be like that. Here, can I pour you some more wine?”

Bucky laughed. “That’s number four!”

Antony froze in the act of wine-pouring, his eyes narrowing. “You got me. But you’re still at 7, and I’m only on number five,” he pointed out, smug. 

“So ask your question,” Bucky said, taking the wine. This game of cat and mouse was turning him on probably more than it should have. 

“You’re a California boy?” Antony guessed. 

“Nope.” Bucky sipped his wine. “Brooklyn. Born and bred.” 

“You’re kidding.” Antony looked pleasantly surprised. “I’m from Manhattan. Small world.” 

“You still live there?” Bucky asked. Because he was usually better at spotting fellow New Yorkers, especially from the scene there.

“No, my folks’ place is in Jersey.” 

Bucky made a face. “Why?” 

Antony grinned, finding something funny that Bucky had yet to learn. “I think the City’s too weird for them.” 

Bucky tried to guess what that meant, given what Antony had already said about his family. “So they’re...conservative?” 

Antony’s grin widened into a smile. “I think it’s fair to say they’re...old-fashioned.” So that meant ultra-Republican and old money. Great. Nothing intimidating about that. Then again, Bucky had had Nat’s Russian Mafia dad to contend with before this, and there were few things more intimidating than former KGB organized crime bosses. 

“Aww, laudanum-cube, don’t look so anxious. I know for a fact they’d love you.” Antony stopped suddenly, having surprised himself. He struggled to cast off the awkwardness of having jumped ahead to a serious relationship between them that didn’t actually exist yet. “I mean...if we ever decide to take it there.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. Antony really was serious about being more than a one-night stand. Maybe he should have run for the hills, but Bucky’s hopeless romantic heart couldn’t help but warm to Antony even more. “What makes you think they’d like me?” he asked, trying to get things back on track and wave off the awkward moment. 

“Oh, they’d love you,” Antony insisted, gesturing with his wine glass. “You’re tall, dark, and dangerous. Hell, I’d probably have to fight my sister off if she ever laid eyes on you.” 

Bucky had a couple of follow-up questions now, the first of which was how Antony knew he was dangerous. He’d been in civilian mode all night. Sadly, it was Antony’s turn to ask a question. He’d jumped ahead again.

Antony reclined on the bed once more, giving Bucky a view of the world up his robe. Bucky’s guess was it was an invitation, but he wanted to wait and see if Antony would ask verbally. “So, why California?” 

“My baby sister’s stationed at Edwards, so I like to have a place close by for when she gets a bunch of days off in a row. It’s more fun to play HALO and Rainbow Six together when we’re in the same room.” And Bucky usually had to go dark when he was on a job. That meant no MMO logins. 

Antony sat up, quickly out of seduction mode. “No way, Edwards? My best friend works out of Edwards.” 

“No shit? What’s his name?” Bucky asked. 

“Colonel James Rhodes.” Antony looked hesitant, as though he felt divulging the name was going to put his friend at risk somehow. But he needn’t have worried. 

“That’s crazy!” Bucky said. “She does test flights for him sometimes.” 

Antony’s jaw dropped. “How have we not met sooner?” 

Bucky snorted a laugh. “It’s not like officers and their civvy pals usually hobknob with pilots and their families.” 

“Maybe.” But Antony looked annoyed, then turned the tables. “Is your sister as good-looking as you are?” 

Bucky wasn’t sure where this was going. “My baby sister’s a peach: blonde, freckles, the works. And if you ever lay a finger on her, I’ll break both your arms.” 

Antony threw back his head and laughed, tickled by Bucky’s response. “I’m telling you, kid: my folks would love you. Guaranteed.”

Now Bucky was just confused. “Kid? How old are you? You can’t be more than 30.” 

Antony batted his eyelashes. “You flatter me, Sir.” But, hard as Bucky tried, he couldn’t get an actual age out of him. 

Their game of questions continued, back and forth, getting flirtatious and personal by turns. Finally, with Bucky down to a single question, Antony asked about Bucky’s ex. “I hear you’re one of few men to have survived the black widow.” 

Bucky sighed. “I’m not sure if I’d call it surviving, but I’m still mostly breathing.” 

“Touche. What’s she like in the sack?” Antony asked.

“Acrobatic. Please don’t tell me this whole thing was a long con to get close to the queen.” Bucky would be very very disappointed at this point if that was it. 

“What? No. Just curious. I’m not brave enough to dip my toes into that piranha-infested water.” 

That was it; that had been Antony’s last question. Now that all of that was out of the way, there was really only one question that mattered to Bucky. “Will you go out with me again?” Bucky actually wasn’t sure if last night counted as going out, seeing as they’d only really come in. 

Antony smiled, relieved. “Nightshade, I thought you’d never ask.”


	4. At the Fun Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Tony have their first official date at Disneyland for Bats Day.

Their next date (the first one, technically) was on Bat Day at Disneyland. The holidays, unsurprisingly, had turned out to be quite busy for both of them, and seeing as there was an entire country between them, it took some planning to end up in the same place at the same time again. Bucky said he had no problem flying out east, but Antony claimed he enjoyed visiting California, so they should meet there. They’d been planning to have dinner on Antony’s birthday, but as Bats Day in the Fun Park was before then, and they’d both expressed an interest in going, Bucky got him to push their date up. 

For a while, Bucky had been sure Antony was going to do something lavish like book the 21 Royal so that they could enjoy the suite overlooking New Orleans Square, but Antony had said nothing of it after expressing some interest in visiting Club 33. Bucky had said Club 33 would be fun, and looked into some of his connections, but ultimately come up short. After that, he didn’t mention it for fear of disappointing Antony. Sure, he could have paid the 30 grand for a membership, he knew a couple of members who would sponsor him, but it seemed a bit much for only their second (technically first) date. 

Still, as he waited for Antony to meet him on the esplanade, Bucky was having second thoughts. A self-professed billionaire, Antony seemed to be a man of luxury. Would he look down on Bucky for not dropping the $30k (closer to $75k once you added in the initiation fee)? 

Bucky could see Antony through the crowd all the way down at the security checkpoint. What the hell was he bringing in? Security seemed to take forever searching him. Then Antony emerged with an old-fashioned picnic basket, and Bucky understood. He looked like a little prince come out to play, dressed in rose and gold, a black rose pin on his lapel. His gothic lolita parasol didn’t take away from the look one bit. “Let me hold this for you,” Bucky said, as soon as Antony drew close enough. 

“What, the basket or the umbrella?” 

“This,” Bucky said, leaning underneath the parasol’s shade to kiss Tony on the lips and abscond with the picnic basket. 

“You’re sweet,” Antony said, blushing. “Follow me.” He led them through a hidden side gate that opened on the garages where they kept all of the trolleys and buses. There was a 1912 Touring car (the kind reserved for VIPs and parade grand marshals) waiting, along with a smiling driver who opened the door for Antony to step up. 

“What, no horses?” Bucky asked, only half-joking. 

“You can show me your horseback gallantry later,” Antony said, patting the seat next to him. Bucky slid in to snuggle next to Antony under the parasol. Between the fire engine-red antique car and Antony’s frilled umbrella, it felt quite garrish and loud, two things Bucky really never was. He might have been uncomfortable, but Antony seemed to take it all in stride, as if he did this every day. 

“Am I allowed to know where we’re going?” Bucky asked. 

“You’ll see,” Antony said, taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it. The car drove them the long way around the park. Bucky was fascinated to see all of the activity backstage. There were carpentry shops and machine shops and garages and color-coded bicycles in front of this building and that building. And everywhere, people in costumes rushing, rushing to their positions. Bucky felt a little bit like he was getting a secret tour of Santa’s workshop. Finally, after they’d crossed a river, the car stopped at a small garden gate. Bucky trailed Antony, feeling like Pip following Estella into Miss Havisham’s garden. He could see the sunlight glinting off a stream beyond, and a carefully-manicured hillside--

“It’s Storybook Land,” Bucky said, amazed. He looked down at his feet to make sure he wasn’t stepping on any tiny houses. “I always wanted to get out of the boat and explore.” 

“Of course you did,” Antony smiled, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “I knew you’d appreciate it.” He gently took the basket from Bucky and spread out a black and white striped blanket. Bucky leaned down to help him smooth it out. 

“Won’t people wonder what we’re doing here?” Bucky asked. 

“Face it, people will be jealous,” Antony said, kneeling down and setting out plates and utensils. They nibbled finger foods and had a great time watching the boats go by. People were indeed shocked and jealous. Antony seemed to enjoy waving at the children, as if he were part of the attraction. It made Bucky wish he’d dressed up a little more. Antony was in full goth drag, like the day they’d met, but Bucky was only in black jeans and a Silence of the Lambs t-shirt over a long-sleeved thermal to hide his arm. Come to think of it, it wasn’t so different from what  _ he’d _ worn on the night they’d met.

Once they were done eating, Bucky and Antony felt they’d had their fill of sun. The driver took them back behind New Orleans Square so that they could take a ride on The Haunted Mansion. Not surprisingly, the mansion was packed with goths. Antony and Bucky had an amazingly silly time of it, singing along with all of the music. Their hitchhiking ghost was Ezra, and Antony made a show of snuggling with him in the trick mirror while Bucky picked his nonexistent nose. Honestly, Bucky felt Disney had missed a photo opportunity there. Once they were back out in daylight, Antony suggested they go on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, but Bucky was not nearly drunk enough for any of the animated movie rides yet. 

He steered Antony toward Pirates of the Caribbean, where Antony tipped the lead so that they got their own boat. It got pretty hot and heavy after that. Bucky was very close to undressed by the time the ramp took them back up out of the animatronic portion of the ride. “I probably shouldn’t be so turned on by this,” he told Antony, who waved to the ride operator to let him know they’d be going again. The hard part, really, about heavy petting on Pirates of the Caribbean, was stopping before you got to a point where small children could see you. 

“You know the employees can see us,” Tony said in the bottom of the boat, looking up at Bucky through heavy mascara as he unzipped Bucky’s fly for the third time today. 

“Suck it,” Bucky ordered, eager to have Tony’s mouth on him and knowing it was giving some really bored minimum wage worker a thrill. He was pounding Antony into the bottom of the boat when they came up for air the third time, and they almost didn’t make it back to their seats. “I can’t stand these interruptions anymore,” Bucky growled. Antony climbed out of the boat and dragged Bucky along behind him down to the depths to fornicate boldly behind the auction scene. If they made any noise, it didn’t distract from the soundtrack of the ride. 

Afterwards, Bucky was eager to get out. In spite of his addictive need to take Antony as many times as possible, and the thrill of doing it in one of his favorite rides, the air had a strange musty chemical smell down in the belly of Pirates, and he was sure in spite of Antony’s VIP status they were going to be asked to leave eventually. 

Outside in daylight, surrounded by the noise of the square and the Mark Twain paddling by, Bucky started to feel better. “Penny for your thoughts,” Antony said, wiping his black lipstick from around Bucky’s mouth. 

“That was fun,” Bucky shrugged, “But I feel like we owe it to today to be more classy than that.”

“Sometimes passion takes over,” Antony said, holding his parasol like a cane. “How about a drink?” 

“What, here?” Galaxy’s Edge was still under construction, wasn’t it? 

“No.” Antony took his hand and led Bucky behind LeBat en Rouge to a secluded spiral staircase. “More options up here.” At the door to Club 33, Antony waved at the maitre d’ and sashayed over to the bar. 

“I was thinking of joining,” Bucky said, “but I guess I should’ve asked if you were already a member.” It seemed there was nothing he could think of that Antony hadn’t already outdone him. 

“You worry too much,” Antony told him. “I want your company, the rest is just scenery. Drink this.” He handed Bucky something coffee-colored and fizzy in a martini glass. 

“I’m not really--”

“It’s the best drink on the planet, and if you don’t want it, I’ll drink it. Just try,” Antony insisted. 

Bucky tasted coffee and chocolate and liquor packed with enough caffeine to make his eyes pop. “Wow.” 

“Well, what do you think?” Antony subtly gripped Bucky’s knee, leaning forward. 

“I think you’re trying to start something again,” Bucky said. “And it’s delicious. The drink, too.” 

Antony chuckled. “I knew you had good taste.” They stayed at the bar drinking black eye martinis until the buzz kicked in, when they wandered back down to the plaza for beignets. 

“I’m never gonna look at Disneyland the same way again,” Bucky said, sitting with Antony on a wrought iron bench overlooking the Rivers of America. 

“You won’t have to,” Antony told him. “If you come here with me.” 

“How could I say no to that?” Bucky smiled. But he was worried. Was this really going to be a long-term relationship? Right now, it felt great, but they’d only had two dates in 6 months. That was more of an on-again-off-again thing than something permanent. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe Bucky just needed to sit back and enjoy it. 

Tired of the crowds, Antony led Bucky back to The Grand Californian, where they explored the faux-Prairie school architecture and decor before settling down by an enormous fire. Tourists passing through were staring at them, but Bucky couldn’t tell if it was because they were two men, snuggling in public, or because no one had warned them about Bat Day. “I like you a lot,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Antony properly. 

“ _ Je t’aime _ ,” Antony whispered, kissing him. 

“You speak French?” Bucky asked. “That’s kind of hot.” Antony offered a sly smile before dragging Bucky back to his hotel room. They paused their second marathon of sex just long enough to watch the fireworks from the balcony and order room service. “I could fuck you all day,” Bucky told him, devouring Antony’s lips. 

“You’re my favourite ride,” Antony confessed, nimble fingers goading Bucky into another go-round. 

In the morning, it was time to part ways again. “This is the best date I’ve been on in a really long time,” Bucky confessed, holding Antony’s hand to his chest. 

“I don’t want to miss you,” Antony frowned. “Here. Take these.” He offered Bucky a pair of cyberpunk goggles like the ones Antony had worn the night they’d met. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” Bucky said. He felt bad. He hadn’t thought to get Antony anything in return. 

“Just try them on,” Antony insisted, so Bucky did. The goggles weren’t just a costume piece, but high tech smart glasses that gave Bucky readings for how close things were, what Antony’s heart rate and overall health was, even the temperature of the air around them. 

“Are you serious?” Bucky asked, taking them off. The readouts were making him feel too much like the Terminator. 

“Yep.” Antony put on a pair of his own. “Now put them on again.” 

When Bucky did, he saw the world through Tony’s eyes, and it was disorienting at first. Then Antony ran his hands down his chest, and Bucky understood. “You know, we wouldn’t have to cyber if we were in the same state,” Bucky said. 

“All in good time,” Antony told him, and gave Bucky a long kiss before strolling away. It took every ounce of willpower Bucky had not to chase after him. Suddenly, he felt empty.


	5. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Tony try things long-distance.

Antony wasn’t always there when Bucky put on the goggles, that was what made it exciting (and frustrating as hell). By June, Bucky was wondering if he was ever going to see Antony again in person. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if I was there with you to do that for you?” he asked one night, watching through the goggles as Antony pushed back on a big dildo attached to the shower tile (his bathroom had a mirrored wall). 

“I want you here with me,” Tony moaned, touching himself. 

“I want to be there with you, honey. Why do we have to wait?” Bucky asked.

“Because I have to know if you really love me,” Antony said. 

“And making me wait but giving me cybersex once a week is gonna prove that?” It made no sense to Bucky.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, his hips moving up and down on the fake cock inside him. 

“God, I want you so bad.” This was like torture. Was that it? Was Antony getting off on teasing him? 

“Show me,” Tony begged. “Show me that big dick I’ve been missing. I don’t know how, but you turned me into a bottom, and I need it.” Bucky looked down, goggles focused on his metal hand as it slowly stroked the length of his rock-hard cock. “Yeah. Oh, yeah, I can’t wait.” Tony came hard, fucking and teasing himself until white ribbons streamed over his fingers, one spurt hitting him right in the lenses. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Bucky said, stroking himself faster with need at what he was seeing. 

“Give it to me,” Tony begged, taking off the goggles so Bucky could see him lying on the bathroom floor, spent. “I want it. All over my face.” Bucky gave it to him, coming in a painful burst of semen a moment later. 

“I wanna put it in you next time,” Bucky growled, slowly coming down. 

“I wish you could hold me,” Antony said, curling in on himself. 

“It’s your choice,” Bucky said. “I’d be there tomorrow, if you said yes.” 

“Yes.” 

What? Really? Bucky had not expected it to be so easy. “Okay, which airport? Will you give me driving directions?” 

“I’ll meet you there,” Antony sighed, tucking his hands between his legs. “But there’s a catch.” That’s what Bucky was afraid of. “If you come here, you can never leave.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to leave.” Was this just romantic sweet talk, or was Antony secretly a serial killer? Was Bucky agreeing to be kept in a basement cage for the rest of his life? Honestly, if the sex was as good as it had been the first two times, Bucky would seriously consider it. 

“Come to me.” Antony’s eyes begged him, looking into the goggles. “I don’t think I can live without you.” 

“Then I guess I’d better get cleaned up and get on a plane.” 

“I love you,” Antony said. He always said that after they made love. But this time, it felt different. 

“I want to be with you,” Bucky said. Because ‘love’ was a hard word to say after what Nat had put him through. 

“Now I have to warn you, the house might be a bit of a shock,” Antony warned. 

Bucky killed people for a living. He doubted Antony could do anything that would really shock him. 

The house was beautiful. Bucky could see it from blocks away, not only because it was four stories high and older than most of the houses surrounding it, but because it appeared to have its own weather pattern separate from the rest of the neighborhood. Late afternoon shone bright and kind on the sleepy suburb of Westfield, with the exception of 0001 Cemetery Lane, which had its own personal storm front. Cumulus clouds hung heavy over the Queen Anne style tower, but for now, the rain was only threatening. “How’d you do that?” Bucky asked. 

“My grandmother doesn’t believe in sunny days,” Antony said. Someone superstitious might have asked if Antony’s grandmother was a weather witch, but Bucky had seen enough of Antony’s inventions to have other ideas. 

“Technology like that could make her rich for life,” Bucky said. 

“We’re already rich,” Antony said, flippant. But Bucky knew that. Antony pulled the classic hearse down a long driveway that led to a night garden surrounded by dead plants and roseless briars. “My mother is an avid gardener,” Antony said, before Bucky could comment. “She spends hours every day making sure it looks just how she wants it.”

“Your parents are retired?” Bucky asked. Tony wasn’t that old that his parents should be retired, but money could buy a lot of free time. 

“My father plays the stocks, just for fun. But neither of them ever had to work.” 

“Wow.”

“You’re judging us.” It wasn’t hard to tell how defensive Antony was about his family.

“No, I’m just thinking it might be nice to do what makes you happy and not have to worry about money.” 

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been lucky.”

“It’s not a judgment, Tony.” Maybe meeting his parents on their third date was a mistake. All their passion had gone in a puff of anxiety. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to do it now.” 

“Are you saying you don’t want to meet my folks?” They were parked, and Antony turned to stare at him. 

“No.” Bucky touched his hand. “I’m saying I want it to be the right time.” He paused. “Also, I haven’t had you in months, and it’s hard for me to be polite when all I want to do is rip your clothes off.” 

Antony sighed. “You say the sweetest things.” 

“I really wanna kiss you.” And just like that, Antony was on him. They crawled into the back and fornicated like rabbits for the better part of an hour. 

“Taking me in a hearse is pretty romantic,” Antony observed, pushing Bucky’s sweaty hair out of his eyes. 

“Not as romantic as picking me up from the airport in a hearse.” Bucky kissed him. 

“I don’t want this to end,” Antony said, stroking Bucky’s cheek. 

“Why don’t we go to a hotel?” Bucky asked. “We can spend however long you want together, and see how we feel later.”

“I do want to focus on you for a while,” Antony hedged. “My house is very distracting.” 

“_ You’re _ very distracting,” Bucky said, pinning Antony’s arms behind his head. 

Antony chuckled. “Ready for round 4 already?” 

“Baby, for you, I’m always ready.” When they stopped for a break, Antony drove to the nearest Best Western, naked. Bucky wriggled back into his leather pants to check them in, and then they hit the shower to clean up. 

They spent the entire weekend together, fucking and talking, and at the end, Antony sent Bucky away again. “It’s not time yet,” he said. 

“What if I want to stay?” Bucky asked. 

“Halloween,” Antony said. “They’ll all be in a good mood. It’s like Christmas at our house.” Bucky understood that. Halloween was the best day of the year for most goths.

“I think it’s so cool your folks are part of the culture, too.” 

“I want them to love you,” Antony said, squeezing Bucky’s hands. “But I’m so nervous.” Bucky was, too, but he didn’t want to say so. Why did this relationship hinge on what Antony’s family thought about him? 

Even though Antony was trying his best to get rid of Bucky, he didn’t go back to California. Instead, Bucky rented a dive apartment in Newark and just told Tony he’d gone back to LA. That was how much Bucky loved Tony: he actually moved to New Jersey, a high crime and misdemeanor for a native New Yorker. 

On weekends, Bucky met Antony at the airport and they would spend as long as they could together. It was much better than trying to do long-distance long-term. But it didn’t last. Antony’s goggles had some kind of tracking system, because he knew Bucky wasn’t in California the first time they did cyber after the move. It made Bucky wonder if Antony had known where he had been on his jobs, too. 

“I don’t understand, poundcake,” Antony said. “Were you trying to surprise me?” 

“I couldn’t handle being that far away again,” Bucky admitted. “Sorry for not being honest. I guess it’s kind of creepy, if I think about it.” 

“Ridiculous! That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” Antony declared before hurriedly getting dressed. 

“You’re not mad?” Bucky asked, feeling relieved. 

“I’m only upset because you aren’t creeping on me, specifically. Now get in my body.” 

Bucky felt weak in the knees at those words. “Where should I meet you?” 

“You stay right there. I’m on my way.” 

*

Bucky regretted not getting a nicer place. Now that he knew where Bucky lived, Antony was over so often, they practically lived together. They might have but for the slight hitch that neither of them could concentrate on anything else when they were together. It was impossible to get any work done. Every week or so, Antony would have to leave to do business or build in his workshop, and Bucky managed to check his messages. A couple of jobs later, it was already October. 

Antony stopped coming over. Bucky wondered if he’d gotten cold feet. Maybe he’d had enough of Bucky and his shithole apartment. Then Bucky got an invitation in the mail. The envelope was almost a foot long, and the card inside was an intricate pop-up of a house that looked suspiciously like the one he’d seen when Antony had picked him up from the airport all those weeks ago. 

_ It’s drawing near, _

_ A time for fear _

_ The most romantic time of year! _

_ Your presence is mandatory at nightfall _

_ October 31st _

_ 0001 Cemetery Lane _

It sounded almost like a threat. Bucky was excited. He spent the rest of the month getting ready, agonizing over what clothes to wear, getting his hair cut and a professional shave, the works.


	6. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally gets to meet Antony's family.

Finally, Halloween arrived. Bucky was too excited. He got there early and strolled through the nearby cemetery, waiting for the sun to go down. He hadn’t seen any trick-or-treaters on his way, but maybe they were scared of this part of town. It was too bad. He loved seeing the kids in their costumes on Halloween. Bucky was looking at his sister’s instagram and all the photos of his niece in her costume when a murder of crows passed overhead, too loud to be ignored. Bucky supposed it was close enough to time, and steeled himself before walking up to the front door of Antony’s parents’ house.

The look Bucky had finally landed on was steampunk: a stetson with antique light bulbs tucked into the band and cowboy boots complete with gears for spurs. Chaps seemed a bit too sexy for meeting your boyfriend’s parents, so Bucky had gone with side-laced buckskin pants with compass rose copper buttons. A one-sleeved, black denim shirt with miniature gold pocket watch bolo tie completed the look.

The front porch had been carefully-decorated with spiderwebs, and they looked real. Bucky was impressed. The antique doorbell was the kind you pulled to ring. Bucky nearly jumped when it made a foghorn sound. The tallest man he’d ever seen opened the door, wearing a very convincing Frankenstein’s monster costume. But he said nothing. “I’m here to see Antony,” Bucky said, feeling his nerves under the man’s scrutinizing gaze. 

“Follow me,” the creature said in a deep, bass voice that sounded very bored. Bucky followed him down a cobblestone-tiled hall lined with animal trophies. It was dark inside the house, but Bucky could have sworn some of those animal heads didn’t look quite right. They took a sharp right, and an arched doorway led to an enormous two story drawing room with vaulted ceilings lit with candles. That had to be a fire hazard, but the effect was worth it. “Wait here,” the butler said, and lurched away. 

Alone in the giant room, Bucky explored the antique furniture and collection of oriental rugs covering the floor. He nearly tripped over a toy railroad track before noticing that a railway had been built all around the room, complete with stations and train yards and track switches, and enough tiny farms and hills, bridges and tunnels to satisfy the most avid of model train enthusiasts. As Bucky squinted at all of it in the darkness, he thought he heard a train in the distance. He listened. The engine seemed to be chugging closer and closer, but the sound was too soft to be a real train. Right? 

“Incoming!” 

Bucky looked up at a balcony overlooking the sitting room in time to see a black blur come hurtling over the rail. A large model train crashed to the floor just inches away from him, bursting into a million pieces as a man tumbled end over end, finally ending up on his feet. Dressed in silk pants and an embroidered smoking jacket, he raised his arms like a gymnast who’d just stuck the landing. “What do you think about that, my boy?” the man smiled at Bucky, manic. He looked like the love child of Desi Arnaz and Voltaire. On crack. “Not bad for a twelfth try.” 

The butler returned to the room, holding a score sign: **8**. “What about you, Thing?” The man turned to an end table where a disembodied hand emerged from a jewelry box to hold up a second sign: ** 6**. “My harshest critic,” the man told Bucky, as if he had any idea what was going on. The hand laid the sign down and disappeared back into its box. 

“I’m sorry,” the man apologized. “How rude of me! Gomez!” He shook Bucky’s hand, enthusiastically. “And you must be Lucky. Antony’s told us all about you. Cigar?” Gomez produced a silver case from his jacket pocket. 

“Bucky,” Bucky corrected him. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve only got Cubans!” Gomez apologized. “Maybe you can bring some of those Buckies with you next time.” 

“His name’s not Lucky, father.” Bucky hadn’t seen the little girl standing in the corner a minute ago. He also hadn’t seen her enter the room. Something was wrong with her skin; she looked like Toshio from _ Ringu_, if the meowing kid had worn a black smock and had long braids. It was a good costume; simple but terrifying. “It’s Bucky,” she said. 

“It is?” Gomez looked to Bucky to confirm this. 

“She’s right, Sir.”

“Well, I should have known,” Gomez smiled indulgently at the unamused-looking little girl. “My daughter Wednesday. She’s always had quite a head on her shoulders.”

“Pleased to meet you, Wednesday.” Bucky tipped his hat to her, and she curtsied. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Marie Antoinette has been making careless statements again.” She jostled the headless doll in her hand. “It’ll be the iron maiden this time, I’m afraid.” 

“Wow.” Bucky tried to process this as Wednesday walked away.

“Isn’t she something?” Gomez smiled. 

“Gomez, darling, you’re being remiss as a host.” Bucky turned, trying to find who the new voice belonged to. “You haven’t even offered our guest something to drink.” A vision in velvet emerged from a jungle of potted plants hiding a doorway Bucky hadn’t noticed before. 

“How right you are, my dear!” Gomez had already crossed the room to take her hand. Bucky found himself examining the woman’s statuesque features for similarities to Antony’s before he remembered this wasn’t Antony’s biological mother. She was clearly way too young to be, anyway. “Always my better half,” Gomez said, turning to glance back at Bucky. “_ Cara mia, _ I would be nothing without you.” He bent to kiss his wife’s knuckles, and Bucky began to feel he should leave the two of them alone. 

“Not now, dearest,” the woman told Gomez. She gestured with her free hand and the doorman arrived with a tray of cups billowing smoke. It had to be dry ice, Bucky thought. These folks really knew how to do Halloween. “Please help yourself to refreshment, Mr. Barnes. As I’m sure you’ve ascertained by now, I am Mrs. Addams. But as you’re so dear to our little Antony, you may call me Morticia.” 

“Ma’am.” Bucky removed his hat all together and took a cup of smoke, perching awkwardly on a chaise longue. And nearly dropped his cup as a head popped out between his ankles. 

“Father! Father!” A freckled doughnut of a boy wriggled out from under the chaise, and Bucky quickly moved out of the away, giving him plenty of room. “Did you crash the train already?” 

“Honestly, Pugsley,” Morticia frowned, and it was a dainty expression on her lovely face. “Must you play in your tunnels on today of all days?” 

“Sorry, mother.” The boy offered Bucky a stiff bow and hurried off, leaving a trail of dirt behind him. The butler grunted and grabbed a dustpan, bending down to catch the dirt as the disembodied hand clawed its way out from under the couch and swept up the dirt. Bucky couldn’t understand how it managed without being attached to someone. 

“Thank you, Thing,” Morticia said. “Do sit down,” she told Bucky. “We’re all dreadfully excited to meet our Antony’s young man.” 

Bucky couldn’t help but feel he would be a disappointment to these classy, albeit eccentric people. “Is he--?” 

“I think he’s still helping grandmama with her costume. She will go all out this time of year, and she doesn’t trust anyone but Antony to help.” Really? Antony hardly ever talked about his grandmother. Bucky wouldn’t have guessed they were so close. 

“So…” Gomez escorted Morticia to an ornate, high-backed chair and helped her take her seat. It was clear she was his queen, and she fully looked the part. It didn’t hurt that the ornate chair looked a lot like a throne. “What do you do for a living, James?” 

James? That was jarring. Bucky couldn’t remember even having told Antony his first name. “Please, ma’am.” Bucky tried not to fidget with the hat in his lap, feeling nervous as hell. “Call me Bucky.” 

“Oh, I don’t think I could do that,” Morticia said, looking to Gomez for consultation on the matter. 

He shrugged. “Sounds like he doesn’t want to tell us, my turtle dove,” Gomez said, shocking Bucky that he’d caught his attempt at distraction. 

When Morticia turned her exquisitely made-up eyes to Bucky again, he felt like an eagle was glaring lasers into his soul; he nearly flinched. “Well, if he won’t tell us, I think we’ll just have to guess.” 

“Train conductor!” Gomez leapt up, excited. “No, lion tamer! Cowboy!” 

“Gomez, darling…” Even Bucky could hear the unspoken warning in Morticia’s voice. Gomez quickly took it down 20 notches. 

“Sorry, dearest. You know how excited I get when it comes to games.” 

She patted his hand, forgiving. “I think...a murderer...yes. It’s definitely something to do with death.” Bucky really hoped she was joking. No way was she that good of a guesser. 

“Well, if he’s a murderer, he’ll fit right in!” Gomez said with relief. 

“It’s really more of a hobby than a career,” Morticia said, somewhat disapproving. 

“Ma’am.” Honestly, it was now or never. “I’m a contract killer. I don’t...enjoy what I do. But I’m good at it,” Bucky confessed. 

Morticia’s perfectly-plucked eyebrows rose. “An assassin. Now that is interesting. We haven’t had an assassin in the family in...several generations, I think.” She looked to Gomez for confirmation. 

Gomez held his unlit cigar like he was searching his memory. “Cousin Gavrilo, wasn’t it?” 

“Oh no, that’s far too recent,” Morticia said. Bucky was just glad they weren’t upset about it. Hopefully Antony wouldn’t be either, especially since Bucky had told his parents before he’d told him. 

“Mom.” Antony appeared at the balcony Gomez had leapt from earlier. He was radiant in black and red with gold accents. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away, almost desperate to see him after so long. “Can I talk to my boyfriend now?” 

“Of course, dear. You children run along. Gomez and I have a few more things to prepare.” 

Bucky had no idea how to get up to where Antony was. Luckily, Tony met him on his way up the stairs. “Your folks seem really nice,” he said, as Antony towed him up two flights. Now he could see Antony’s lower half, Bucky noticed the peacock’s tail worth of ruffles framing Antony’s muscular legs. Fuck, he could just wear anything and look amazing. Bucky wanted to take him right here on the stairs. 

“The nicest,” Antony said. “You really think so?” he glanced back at Bucky over his shoulder. 

“Sure I do.” He patted Tony’s silk-covered butt. It was right in front of him, after all; too tempting. 

Suddenly Antony was on him, arms and legs wrapped around Bucky so that he almost stumbled backwards down the stairs. “Kiss me a lot. Like, large amounts.” Apparently great minds thought alike. That, or Antony was a mind-reader. Bucky gave it 50-50 either way.

Bucky was more than happy to comply, leaning Tony gently against the wall to tease his lips and tongue. “You sure you wanna start this here, in your parents’ house?” 

Antony thought about it for a moment. “They’d understand.” 

Bucky pressed closer. “If you disappeared for the rest of the night?” 

Antony’s eyelids drooped. “Okay, maybe not that.”

“Shame.” 

Tony tipped Bucky’s hat back so that he could nibble Bucky’s lips. “It really is. But I want to savor my steampunk buckaroo. No quickies tonight.” He licked the tip of Bucky’s nose, playful. 

“I guess that’s fair,” Bucky said, pushing his erection against Antony’s ass cheek. 

Tony moaned and pretended to burst into tears. “You monster.” Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss against Antony’s neck. “Come on.” Tony reluctantly unwrapped his legs from around Bucky so that they could ascend further. 

“You’re not luring me to the roof to throw me off or anything, are you?” Bucky asked. 

Antony grinned. “No, I want to show you something!” 

That something turned out to be Antony’s bedroom. “Subtle,” Bucky said, glancing around at all of the plush red and antiqued gold decor. But did Tony’s shoes match the room or did the room match his shoes?

“Never,” Antony declared, dragging Bucky to the giant picture window overlooking the graveyard. 

“Man, you’re not kidding,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Antony from behind.

“Romantic,” Antony sighed.

“Macabre,” Bucky said, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Brother…” Bucky turned to see Wednesday waiting in the doorway, patiently. 

“Yes, weekday girl?” Antony said. 

She held up her doll. “Marie’s grown her head back.” 

Tony gasped. “What nerve!” He wandered over to have a closer look. “Even after the iron maiden?” Wednesday nodded sadly. “Let’s have a look.” Antony knelt down to examine the re-headed doll. 

“Have you ever tried the magic lasso?” Bucky asked from the window. Wednesday raised curious eyes, shaking her head no. “Here. Lemme show you.” He reached into his pocket for his favorite garotte--Bucky never went anywhere without it--and bent down to demonstrate his “rope trick” on the doll, tossing the simple loop over her head before turning it into a noose. 

Wednesday watched calmly for a few moments. “Teach me how to do it,” she demanded. Bucky sat down on the floor and spent the better part of 20 minutes helping her practice. She was good, but it was an expert-level move; not something anyone could learn in such a short time. 

“And if you ever get sick of practicing, just do it the old-fashioned way.” Bucky unwrapped the noose and handed her both ends of the garotte. Wednesday’s bored expression suddenly became determined. She pulled and pulled until the doll’s head popped off and rolled across the floor. Bucky and Antony both cheered. 

“Take that, patrician scum!” Wednesday told her favorite doll. 

“Hey! Hi-five!” She pressed her palm to Bucky’s in the most sombre and sedate hi-five he’d ever gotten, then quietly left the room. 

Bucky found Antony watching from a loveseat in the corner and went to join him. “You’re a saint, you know that?” Antony said, sipping leftover coffee from his favorite mug. It had a robot face on it, Bucky noted. Or was that Klaatu from _ The Day the Earth Stood Still_? Either way, cute.

“I have a very specific set of skills,” Bucky said, trying to hide a smile.

“Are you sure you’re not an Addams?” Tony asked, draping one arm over the back of the loveseat, teasing Bucky to put an arm around him. Or perhaps it was to draw Bucky’s attention to his arm holding the coffee mug. Antony had fashioned a red and gold gauntlet and vambrace, part armor, part jewelry. It mirrored Bucky’s left arm; Tony’s metal was on his right arm. It was perfect.

Bucky moved closer on the loveseat. “That a proposal, pardner?” He was pleased to watch Antony get flustered for once. 

“Well, I wanted you to meet the ‘rents first--” 

Bucky grinned and set aside his hat. Then he got down on one knee, opening the pocket watch on his tie to produce the ring. “Mind if I do, then?” 

“This is what I get for letting a steampunk cowboy into my home.” Antony switched back to coy mode.

Bucky winced. “This is what I get for wearing spurs.” Gear-shaped or not, it was unpleasant to get one wedged in one’s ass. 

“Let me help you with that,” Antony purred, taking the ring before helping Bucky stand up and bend over the arm of the loveseat. He fussed over the scratched buckskin longer than necessary before kissing Bucky’s behind. “I think you’ll live,” Antony told Bucky, patting it gently. 

When Bucky sat back down, he noticed Antony had slipped the ruby onto his ring finger. “Happily ever after?” he asked Tony. 

“Spookily ever after?” Antony smiled, gently scratching Bucky’s stubble with painted nails.

“Works for me,” Bucky said, leaning in for a kiss. 

*

In the attic, Grandmama looked up from her crystal ball, smug. “I knew he was the one.” 

“Right as always, mother,” Gomez said. 

“I’m so pleased to have another assassin in the family,” Morticia said. 

“Marie likes him,” Wednesday announced, holding up her headless doll. 

“But where will we put him?” Uncle Fester asked, hanging upside-down from the rafters. 

“We always make room for family,” Morticia said. 

“Maybe it’s time we buried the last suitor,” Gomez suggested. 

“He should be easy enough to move,” Morticia said. “It was so thoughtful of him to freeze himself...”


End file.
